


Communication Breakdown

by DownInTheGutter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Sex, Because fuck yeah Tarantino movies, Bottom Sam, Crack, Domestic, Dorks in Love, Fifty Shades of Grey references, Fluff, Foot Fetish, I haven't actually read it, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sappy Dean, Tarantino references, Top Dean, bad bdsm, ish, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 12:59:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3448073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownInTheGutter/pseuds/DownInTheGutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants to spice up their sex life and all Dean wants to do is to make sweet love to him.<br/>They try, they fail, have a Tarantino marathon, and Sam learns a valuable lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communication Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Dean is a big sap. He also may or may not have a thing for Sam’s feet.  
> It’s Sam’s POV and he’s a bit of a jackass, but it’s okay, he actually cares.
> 
> I started to write it as pure crack and it came out way more angsty than I intended, but everyone’s happy by the end.  
> The title, obviously, from the Led Zeppelin song.
> 
> Disclamer: The character's don't belong to me and all that.

Sam considered himself a bit of a reading aficionado, so when a bestselling book arrived in the store near the bunker, he thought he’d give it a try.

While it wasn’t the pinnacle of literature, it was, in a way, eye-opening.

His and Dean’s sex life… it wasn’t _thrilling_ , to say the least.

Frankly, in comparison to what he’d been reading about, it was just plain boring.

There was no surprise, no passion, no drama.

It used to be more interesting, years ago. They didn’t ever do anything too kinky, but it was still exciting. There was the fear of getting caught, the uncertainty of living another day.

Now, with their cosy bed in the bunker and being (mostly) sure no one would ever interrupt them, it started to be kind of… dull. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it wasn’t that great, either.

It’s not that Sam was ungrateful for the fact that they were safe, getting along, and could finally leave the adrenaline-fuelled days behind, not at all.

Okay, maybe a little.

Who could blame him, though, when what they did every night now was a goddamn routine. They put their respective books on the nightstand, kissed lazily, had sex while looking into each other’s eyes, nice and slow and _boring_ , and then they went to sleep spooning.

Most of the time ‘foreplay’ was Dean giving him a back rub, which, okay, was nice, but it just wasn’t exciting, _at all_.

_Anyone_ would grow to hate it after a while. Okay, maybe not 'hate', but his point still stood.

When did they become so boring?

There was a whole world of kinky, mind-blowing sex they’ve never explored and Sam realised he was missing out.

It was time to make a change.

***

He cornered Dean in the kitchen. “Dean, listen, I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s never good.” Dean muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Dean smiled, the asshole. “You were thinking?”

Sam leaned against one of the counters in what he hoped was a relaxed pose. “It’s just… don’t you think there’s something missing from our sex life?”

Dean’s face was the picture of perfect confusion. “Like what?”

“Well, for one. You’re just… not as spontaneous as you used to be.” Sam _did_ try to put it mildly.

“Hey, I totally am spontaneous.” Dean said indignantly. “Spontaneous is my middle name.”

“Oh, yeah? So when’s the last time we had sex _not_ in our bed _not_ right before we went to sleep?”

Dean was concentrating for a moment before lightening up. “What about that time I just kinda pushed you into the bathroom at a rest stop and we had sex against the sink? That was spontaneous. The door wasn’t even locked.” Dean looked smug. “And you totally freaked out that it was dirty afterwards.” He grinned at the memory. “You acted like you were going to die because of the germs or something.”

“I didn’t.” He did. But only because the bathroom _was_ absolutely disgusting. He just didn’t really notice it when Dean’s hand was down his pants. “Anyway, that was, like, two years ago.”

“No way.” Dean scoffed.

“It totally was. When we were hunting that rugaru in what-was-it, in North Dakota.”

“Holy crap, it _was_ two years ago.” Dean looked shocked. “Oh, wow. We’re getting old.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Dean.” Sam: 1, Dean: 0. “We’re like an old married couple that only ever does missionary, because they can’t be bothered with it anymore.”

Dean bristled. “Well, _I’m sorry_ I like to look you in the eyes when we’re making love.”

“And that! That!” Sam pointed an accusatory finger. “When you’re talking about sex in general it’s always ‘screwing’ or ‘boning’ or something, but when it’s us it’s _making love_. Do you not hear yourself?”

“Okay, I’m not exactly sure what I’m doing wrong.” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “Just give me some pointers, here.”

“I wish you’d just… I dunno.” Great start. “Mess me up a little. Don’t care if what you’re doing feels good to me. Don’t ask me what I want and don’t listen to what I tell you. That kind of stuff.”

Dean was staring at him. He hasn’t blinked for at least two minutes. Sam was getting slightly worried.

Dean cleared his throat before speaking hesitantly. “So, wait, let me get this straight. You’re mad at me because I want you to enjoy yourself when we’re having sex?”

“I’m not mad at you, Dean.” Sam sighed. “And it’s not about it at all, why can’t you just… I just wish you were more, uh, _adventurous_.” Yes, that’s the word he was looking for. “Like we used to be.”

To say that Dean looked upset would be an understatement. “You know, Sam, we’re not teenagers anymore. We can’t just bone on every available surface every ten minutes like we used to.”

“Why not?” Sam felt like stomping his feet, but that probably wouldn’t help his credibility. It used to win him arguments with Dean, though. About thirty years ago. God, they were old.

“Well, for one, we only lasted for five minutes tops back then, so it wasn’t exactly a workout.” Dean put a hand on Sam’s face and looked at him fondly. “Also, did I ever tell you you’re cute when you pout?”

Sam shrugged off his hand angrily. “You did. And I’m not pouting.” He wasn’t. “But it’s not about just that. There’s so much stuff we should change. It’s _everything_ that’s wrong. I just can’t stand it anymore. Our sex life _sucks_.”

Dean left at that. Crap. Sam: 0, Dean: 0.

***

So, _maybe_ , the way he went about making his fantasies reality wasn’t ideal. Luckily, Sam wasn’t anything if not stubborn.

Looking at back it, what he’d said could have been _a bit_ insulting.

Still, it was in no way insulting enough to just up and leave to sulk in your room.

Dean hasn’t come out for the past three hours. It was probably time to go there and clear the air. He got two beers from the fridge as a peace offering.

When he came into the room Dean looked like he was waiting for him to show up the whole time, before he pretended to be busy with his phone. It would have been kind of pathetic if it wasn’t for the fact that Sam spent the past three hours thinking about whether it was time to go and apologise or something. Talk about issues.

Sam sat next to him on the bed and held out one of the beers. Dean looked so grateful it made him feel bad. Maybe they should just drop the whole thing and have the boring, ‘married for 30 years’ kind of sex for the rest of their lives. Let it be said that Sam could make sacrifices. “Listen, Dean, forget I said anything.”

Dean shook his head. “No, _you_ forget I said anything. You wanna do it, then we’re gonna do it. Just, like, give me a list or something.”

***

“So, uh, about that thing, I got most of the stuff you asked for and I have been, like, mentally preparing for it, so we can start tomorrow?” Dean said, looking at him hopefully. Sam rewarded him with a smile. “So, what do you wanna watch next? ‘Kill Bill’ or ‘From Dusk till Dawn’?”

“You pick.” Sam said absently.

“Woo hoo, ‘Kill Bill’!” Dean did a fist pump in the air. “Although, ‘From Dusk till Dawn’ does have the messed up brother relationship, I can always go for that.” He put his hand on Sam’s knee and leered at him.

Sam cringed. “I hate it when you make that pervy face.”

“You’re totally into it.”

*I’m totally into _you_ , asshole, there’s a difference.” Sam punched him lightly in the shoulder. Dean flipped him off.

After Dean put ‘Reservoir Dogs’ on for the second time (it’s freaking awesome, Sammy, can’t help it) and they settled back on the couch Sam considered the position they were in for a moment. “So, you know how Tarantino obviously has a foot fetish…”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, moving his hand absently.

“…I’m thinking you might have it too.”

Dean glanced down at Sam’s feet in his lap and his own hand that was rubbing them just a second ago. “I don’t?” He tried.

“Yeah, you kinda do.”

Dean was musing over it for a moment. “I don’t have a thing for feet in general. Just your feet, I guess. They’re nice feet. But, you’re, like, nice all over, so.”

That was kind of sweet. “It’s still kind of weird.”

Dean snorted. “Says the guy that doesn’t want to enjoy sex.”

Sam put his feet on the floor and glared at Dean. “Are you being obtuse on purpose? I told you I _would_ enjoy it.” He stopped for a moment. “I think.”

“Can we just focus on the movie?”

“Whatever.”

Dean pressed pause and then stretched his arms over his head. “Okay, since someone’s grumpy, I’m gonna make us dinner and then we’ll watch it.” Dean leaned in and kissed his nose. “I love you, Honey Bunny.”

Sam scrunched up his face and swatted at him half-heartedly. Dean looked at him expectantly.

“I’m not saying it.”

Dean’s face fell. “Please?” He kissed his nose again.

Sam sighed. “I love you too, Pumpkin.”                   

Dean beamed.

***

“Shouldn’t you pick, like, a safe word or something? Pretty sure I heard about it.”

“Well, yeah.” Sam hesitated. “But they don’t do that in the book, so we shouldn’t either. It’ll be more authentic.”

Dean shrugged. “Whatever floats your boat. You make the rules.”

Sam cursed under his breath. “No, Dean. _You’re_ supposed to make the rules. That’s how the whole thing works.”

“Fine. I make the rules.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Sorry for trying.”

“Just… get to it already.” Sam’s patience was wearing thin.

“Wow, for someone that’s supposed to be _submissive_ you’re awfully bitchy.”

If looks could kill Dean would have been dead on the spot.

“Also, are you sure about using cable ties? Can I not, like, tie you up with scarves or something?”

Sam was _this close_ to just walking out and abandoning the whole thing. “We don’t even _have_ scarves. When I got one you were making fun of it until I got rid of it, remember?”

“Well, you were wearing it inside and it was lame.” Dean said defensively. “Anyway. What about regular ties? We’ve got plenty of those.”

“Take the cables and tie me to the headboard, jackass.”

“Fine. You’re the boss.”

“Dean…”

“Right, sorry. I’m the boss.”

***

Having Dean refrain from all the disgustingly sweet things he usually said and did when they were having sex turned out to not be as much fun as he thought.

There was also, possibly, a serious problem.

It took him a couple of minutes to make himself utter the words. He didn’t want to give up, but, well. It was giving up or amputation. “Dean, I, uh. I can’t feel my hands.”

Dean looked up. “Oh my God.” He looked horrified. “I killed your hands.”

When Dean finally cut through the cable ties it turned out that Sam’s wrists were rubbed raw and his hands were snow white from the lack of circulation. He _really_ shouldn’t have told Dean to make them tighter so that he couldn’t get out.

It was decidedly not as great as he’d imagined.

What ruined it further was Dean was freaking out over the whole thing. He only cheered up a bit when he got to bandage Sam’s wrists.

Okay, so that was hardly spectacular, but Sam wasn’t to be deterred. Time to move on to something else. Probably in a couple of days, though, just so that Dean doesn’t have a heart attack.

***

“Remember how you had a thing for Mr. Blonde?” Dean asked, combing his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I always thought it’s kind of creepy, cause he’s a total psycho. And you were, like, fourteen.”

“Michael Madsen is hot.” Sam shrugged. “And you always had a thing for Salma Hayek and her feet. Weirdo.”

Dean flicked his ear. The asshole.

The Bride was on her way to Japan when Dean spoke up again, not looking away from the screen. “Okay, since we’re making another attempt, you wanna tell me again what’s wrong with our sex life? I mean, I kind of get what you’re saying, but then I don’t.” He frowned. “I thought it’s good.”

Sam was not going to say it sucks again. “It’s just… mundane. We’re in a routine. Sorry, but it’s true.”

Dean turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. “And that’s why you want me to tie you up and, like, whip you? Are you _absolutely sure_ about this?”

Sam was thinking about hitting the wall with his head. Or possibly Dean’s. He settled for downing half of his beer in one go. “Dean, this is never gonna work if you keep on asking me for permission. You’re supposed to take control. I told you that, like, ten times.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got it.”

***

After a couple of failed attempts when Dean jumped away and freaked out after Sam started to struggle or told him to stop, he managed to get though his thick head that it was the _whole point_.

Sam was pretty certain it was going to work this time.

***

His muscles were cramping because of being tied down in an uncomfortable position for way too long. He sort of knew that’s what would happen, considering all the times he was tied up when hunting went wrong, but he just thought it might be different if you’re tied up in a sexual situation. The book never mentioned how freaking unpleasant it was.

He could really go for a back rub right now. Why did he ever get angry at Dean for that in the first place?

Also, now that he thought about it, telling Dean to gag him and ignore his reactions might not have been the smartest idea.

It kind of sucked, _but_ they’ve only just started. Dean was about to start using the flogger. Maybe that’d be more of his thing.

Dean was standing behind him, probably convincing himself to go through with it.

Sam would tell him to just hurry up and do it, but yeah, the whole being gagged thing.

Dean took a swing and cracked the flogger over his back.

Fuck, _it hurt_.

It was _not_ his thing.

Dean struck him again. It _really wasn’t_ his thing. Crap.

This was becoming a very bad idea very fast.

Some way to show Dean it was not cool anymore would be great right now.

Ten more strikes and Sam was apologising to every deity that could have been listening for being an ungrateful jackass.

He bit down on the gag and braced himself for another hit, but it never came.

Dean cursed before walking over to stand in front of him.

He looked devastated. “I’m sorry, I know how important it is to you, but I just can’t do it.” He dropped the flogger.

He crouched down in front of Sam. “It’s just, it doesn’t seem like you’re enjoying yourself and I’m not enjoying myself either, and, basically, seeing you in pain because of me, is, like, retroactively killing every boner I’ve ever had.”

Dean dropped his gaze. Sam would love to reassure him right about now, if it wasn’t for the fact that he still couldn’t speak.

“So, yeah, I can’t keep it up. I’m sorry. But it’s just about the last thing I wanna do.”

“Mpff.” Sam agreed.

Dean looked up again a miserable expression on his face. “All I wanna do right now is to put on another movie, wrap you up in a blanket and spoon on the couch. And possibly give you a foot rub. I’m sorry, that’s just who I am, Sam.”

Dean undid the ties carefully and then reached out behind Sam’s head to undo the gag.

“Dean.” Sam croaked out. He coughed a couple of times and moved his jaw around before he felt like he could speak again. “You’re amazing.”

“Wait.” Dean eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not mad?”

Sam grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him deeply.

“Wow.” Dean said after a moment and smiled at him. “I should mess up things more often.”

Sam kissed him again. “Please don’t ever, ever change, you’re amazing, and I’m a moron.”

“Yeah, you kind of are.” Dean smirked.

“Hey, you’re supposed to say I’m not when I say stuff like that.“

Dean looked way too pleased with himself. “Couldn’t lie to you all your life, Sammy.”

Sam was thinking about kissing him again, but settled for flipping him off. “Shut up and give me a foot rub. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”


End file.
